The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT VAERA

Rav David Silverberg

            We read in Parashat Vaera that in the wake of the third plague brought upon the Egyptians, the plague of vermin, Pharaoh's sorcerers attempted to replicate the plague just as they had successfully replicated the first two plagues.  In this instance, however, they found themselves unable to match the power of God.  They conceded to Pharaoh, "It is the finger of God," yet this made no impression on Pharaoh: "Pharaoh's heart was hard and he did not listen to them, as the Lord had spoken" (8:15).

            At first glance, this incident appears to represent a new stage in the ongoing process of Pharaoh's obstinacy.  During the first two plagues, Pharaoh remained insistent on holding the slaves because his sorcerers succeeded in replicating the plague brought about by Moshe and Aharon.  He was thus able to convince himself that it was some power of sorcery, rather than the wrath of God, that struck his country with blood and frogs.  In the aftermath of the plague of vermin, however, when the sorcerers were forced to admit the superiority of God's power, we would have expected Pharaoh to surrender.  Yet, "Pharaoh's heart was hard" and he persisted in his refusal, marking a new stage in his stubborn defiance.

            Some commentators, however, explained this verse differently.  The Rashbam and Ibn Ezra explain that the sorcerers did not, in fact, recognize the superior power of the Almighty.  In their view, the term etzba Elokim – "finger of God" – means, in the Rashbam's words, a makat medina, a natural occurrence that unfolded in Egypt.  The sudden outbreak of lice was seen as a rare epidemic, not a phenomenon that demonstrated the incomparable power of some supernatural force.  The term elohim in this context thus refers not to the Almighty, but rather to the forces of nature.  Pharaoh naturally reacted to the sorcerers' "diagnosis" by persisting in his defiance, having received his advisors' support for his adamant rejection of God's existence or power.

            Rav Yechiel Michel Epstein (author of Arukh Ha-shulchan) presents a more elaborate version of this approach in his Leil Shimurim commentary to the Haggada.  The finger metaphor, Rav Epstein claims, was specifically chosen as a means of expressing the Egyptian sorcerers' theory concerning the plagues that descended upon their country.  Matter is generally classified into four categories: fire, air, water and earth.  When the sorcerers spoke of "the finger of God," they meant that what they witnessed represented a fifth category of nature.  Rather than conclude upon a Supreme Being who controls and governs the four basic forces of nature, they decided that there is a fifth, heretofore unknown, force that has produced these plagues.  Rav Epstein adds that this belief was finally dispelled by the miracle of the splitting of the sea, which the Torah describes as a manifestation of "the great hand" of God (14:31).  The splitting of the sea demonstrated that all five "fingers," what the Egyptians had perceived as the five basic natural forces, are in truth controlled by a single "hand," by a Supreme Being.  Whereas the plague of vermin was dismissed as a "finger," as one of five distinct natural forces, the miracle of the sea revealed the "hand" that animates and controls all powers in the natural world, and to which all creatures on earth are thus held accountable.

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            Before the onset of the ten plagues that God visited upon Egypt, as we read in Parashat Vaera, God informs Moshe that He will "harden Pharaoh's heart" such that he will stubbornly refuse to release Benei Yisrael (7:3).  The Midrash (Shemot Rabba 13:4) cites a comment made by Reish Lakish to reconcile this verse with the fundamental doctrine of bechira chofshit, human free will.  Reish Lakish explained the "hardening" of Pharaoh's heart on the basis of a verse in Sefer Mishlei (3:34), "Im la-leitzim hu yalitz" – "When it comes to the scoffers – He will scoff."  According to Reish Lakish, this verse means that "the Almighty warns him once, twice and three times, and if he does not change course He shuts his heart from repentance in order to punish him for what he has sinned."  If a person has already become a "scoffer," if, like Pharaoh, a sinner has repeatedly shown an aversion to change and persistently pursues evildoing, then God will ensure that he continues along this path.  Although normally the human being is granted the free will to choose between good and evil, in some rare instances of a defiant and unyielding sinner God will deny him the ability to repent.  This notion is more famously developed by the Rambam, in Hilkhot Teshuva (6:3) and in Shemona Perakim.

            Leaving aside the more central question of why and when the Almighty deprives certain sinners of this basic privilege, we will focus on an incidental by-product of Reish Lakish's remarks.  Rav Avraham Yafhan, in his Ha-musar Va-ha'da'at, notes the significance of the association drawn by Reish Lakish between Pharaoh and leitzanut – cynicism, or "scoffing."  By applying the aforementioned verse in Mishlei to Pharaoh, Reish Lakish perhaps indicates that it is this particular quality of Pharaoh that formed the core basis of his sinfulness, for which he was so severely punished.  The question arises, in what way was Pharaoh a leitz – a scoffer – and how is this quality manifest in the story of the ten plagues and the Exodus?

            Rav Yafhan explained that leitzanut means intentionally turning one's mind and attention away from the truth.  Cynics seek to excuse themselves from their responsibilities by finding or concocting ways to deride and scorn the sources of those responsibilities.  When it comes to religious observance, this manifests itself in the tendency to find fault in Torah texts and Torah scholars as a convenient basis on which to dismiss the importance of Torah and mitzvot.  The leitz is aware of the truth and for this very reason he toils in search for a way to poke fun and ridicule, so that he can dishonestly convince himself that these responsibilities are in truth meaningless and not binding in any way.

            Pharaoh was aware of the truth of God's existence and power, but chose to ignore it.  Even as further proof of God's might came before him with every passing plague, Pharaoh managed to continue convincing himself of Egypt's invincibility.  In this sense, Rav Yafhan writes, Pharaoh was indeed the prototypical "scoffer," the classic example of a person who insists on denying inconvenient truths in any way he can.

            Rav Yafhan adds that this perspective on Pharaoh's conduct may perhaps shed light on a different Midrashic passage (Shemot Rabba 13:1), which speaks of the "difficulty" God experienced, so-to-speak, in tolerating Pharaoh's defiance.  The Midrash records God's remark that producing the earth was a far easier and simpler task than tolerating Pharaoh, who "angered Me with nonsense."  The Sages often remark that "the seal of the Almighty is truth"; nothing is more contrary to Godliness, to the values represented by the Almighty, than falsehood.  In this sense, Pharaoh's "nonsense" posed a far greater challenge than creation itself.  Pharoah's defiance was rooted in the denial of the truth, in resisting the conclusions that an honest assessment of the situation would necessarily yield.  When the Midrash speaks of the "difficulty" entailed in tolerating Pharaoh's insolence, it refers to the king's dishonesty as manifest in his persistent refusal to acknowledge the truth that presented itself so clearly before his eyes.  This affront to the "seal of the Almighty," to the fundamental value of truth, was a particularly difficult insult for God to tolerate, as it were.

            Reish Lakish thus teaches the importance of bowing one's head to the truth, rather than dishonestly adhering to his since disproved preconceived notions and beliefs.  When confronted by the truth, no matter how inconvenient and difficult it may be to accept, we are to humbly lower our heads and accept it, rather than try to resist it.

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            Parashat Vaera presents a brief genealogical record of the first three tribes of Israel – Reuven, Shimon and Levi – which elaborates in particular detail with regard to the tribe of Levi, which produced Moshe and Aharon.  Amidst this discussion we are informed that Elazar, Aharon's son, married "one of the daughters of Putiel" (6:25).  Rashi, based on the Gemara in Masekhet Sota (43a), explains that "Putiel" is not the name of an individual.  (The Ramban suggests that the Sages felt compelled to make this claim because nowhere else do we ever find a prominent individual by this name.)  Rather, the term "Putiel" refers to two ancestors of Elazar's wife: Yosef and Yitro.  Yosef was known by this name because she-pitpet be-yitzro – "he struggled with his evil inclination" when he was confronted by Potifar's wife.  The word "Putiel" also suits Yitro, as the Gemara explains, she-pitem agalim la-avoda zara – because he had, in the earlier stages of his life, fattened calves for idol worship.

            Of course, the reference to Yitro's involvement in idol worship is intended as a compliment, rather than an insult.  The Torah here emphasizes Yitro's inspiring embrace of monotheism despite his pagan past.  Even though he had previously been committed to idolatrous worship, he managed to change course and find his way to the truth about God's existence.

            Still, the question arises as to why the Torah would emphasize particularly this aspect of Yitro's past, that he "fattened calves for idolatry."  The word "Putiel," according to the Gemara, relates to the term pitem, or "fattened."  Why does this specific element of Yitro's pagan roots characterize the significant transition that he underwent in embracing monotheism?

            Rav Baruch Yitzchak Yissachar Leventhal, in his Birkat Yitzchak (Jerusalem, 5706), explained that the Gemara emphasizes the time, money and effort Yitro had exerted in the practice of idolatry.  He did not simply "dabble" in pagan worship or dispassionately follow a fixed routine to which he had grown accustomed.  Rather, he invested considerable physical and emotional effort in his worship of idols.  Yitro did not merely bring offerings; he exerted himself and paid high prices to ensure to bring only the highest-quality animals.  His involvement was proactive, zealous and passionate, and not passive or casual.

            As hard as personal change is generally, it is even more difficult to change from a course into which one has exerted considerable resources of time, money and energy.  Somebody who invested time and money into building or refurbishing a home will find it difficult to relocate even once it becomes clear that the neighborhood does not suit him.  Professionals who spent years following a certain career path will not easily change professions even if a new career offers greater opportunities for success.  The praise for Yitro as alluded to in the name "Putiel" relates to Yitro's strength and courage in rejecting a way of life that he had pursued with vigor and devotion.  He deserves admiration for focusing his attention on the future, rather than preoccupying himself with the past.  Regardless of how much he had invested in paganism, once he determined the truth of monotheism he was prepared to take this drastic step and build for himself a new religious life.

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            The fourth plague that God brought upon the Egyptians for their refusal to release the Hebrew slaves was arov, a wave of wild beasts that descended upon the country.  Rav Yoel Herzog of Paris, in his Imrei Yoel (London, 5682), suggested an explanation for God's choice of this plague on the basis of the Gemara's comment in Masekhet Shabbat 151b: "A beast does not overtake a person unless he appears to it as an animal."  Wild beasts normally stay away from human habitats, and when they do invade areas populated by people, the Gemara comments, it is because they confuse the people with animals.

            The plague of arov, Rav Herzog suggested, thus served as an appropriate punishment for the Egyptians' mistreatment of Benei Yisrael.  The Egyptians treated the Hebrew slaves as subhuman, animal-like creatures, without any rights or privileges.  Benei Yisrael were looked upon as creatures placed on earth in order to serve the needs and interests of the higher-level species of people.  The Egyptians therefore subjected the Hebrews to grueling labor, feeding them just enough to survive, just as animals are used for labor and fed only what it is needed to sustain their strength.  The onslaught of wild beasts appropriately punished the Egyptians, as it dehumanized them.  Their towns and cities became overrun with beasts like jungles, such that the population no longer felt human.  The Egyptians thus experienced firsthand the loss of human dignity to which they had subjected Benei Yisrael.

            This might explain the emphasis God placed on the distinction drawn during this plague between Egypt proper and the region of Goshen, where Benei Yisrael lived (8:18-19).  He stresses that specifically the people whom the Egyptians had reduced to animal-like status would be spared the wave of wild beasts.  It is the rest of Egypt, which saw itself as the superior race, that would lose its humanity through the sudden invasion of beasts normally confined to the uninhabited jungles.  The distinction drawn between Goshen and the rest of Egypt underscored the crime of discrimination and dehumanization committed against Benei Yisrael, for which the plague of arov served to punish.

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            Parashat Vaera begins with God's reassurance to Moshe that He will, indeed, soon bring Benei Yisrael out of bondage, despite the worsening conditions that the slaves experienced after Moshe's initial confrontation with Pharaoh.  God further instructs Moshe to deliver this message to the people, that the redemption was indeed imminent.  Moshe attempted to deliver this message, but if fell upon deaf ears: "Moshe spoke thus to the Israelites, but they did not listen to Moshe, out of shortness of spirit and difficult labor" (6:9).

            We find in the various Midrashim and commentaries different explanations for what in particular prevented Benei Yisrael from accepting and heeding Moshe's assurance.  The Midrash Lekach Tov points to the people's anger.  Commenting on this verse, the Midrash Lekach Tov writes, "Melamed she-ha'ka'as mesalek et ha-da'at" – "From here [we may derive] that anger eliminates one's reason."  To what kind of "anger" does the Midrash refer, and why did it eliminate Benei Yisrael's "reason"?

            Presumably, the Midrash refers here to the resentment Benei Yisrael felt towards Moshe for promising them redemption, but delivering only more anguish and suffering.  They had lent him their unconditional support when he first arrived and announced the imminent onset of freedom, only to see their hopes shattered with Pharaoh's adamant refusal and unbearable edict requiring them to fetch their own straw for bricks.  This anger that they felt towards Moshe interfered with the message of hope he now sought to deliver.  When a person feels anger and resentment towards another, he instinctively resists anything that other person says, no matter how rational and logical it may be.  It is difficult to accept or acknowledge the legitimacy of the viewpoint expressed by one's adversary even if the argument is a compelling one.  Indeed, "anger eliminates reason," it undermines one's ability to accept rational ideas stated by somebody towards whom he harbors anger and resentment.

            One fairly simple and very common application of the Midrash's comment involves the area of criticism.  In situations where criticism is warranted, it must be spoken very gently and delicately.  If the words are delivered in a harsh, condescending manner, the individual to whom they are spoken will, in most cases, naturally begin to feel resentful,  a feeling that will likely "eliminate his reason," and make it difficult for him to accept the advice.  Criticism must be delivered in a manner that keeps the listener's "reason" intact, that allows him to approach the matter rationally and level-headedly, and not in a manner that evokes animosity and resentment.

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            The final verses of Parashat Vaera tell of the end of the seventh plague, the plague of hail.  Pharaoh pleads with Moshe and Aharon to appeal to God to bring an end to the devastating, destructive storm, and Moshe guarantees the king that immediately upon leaving the city he will pray for the storm's cessation.  Moshe then adds that he remains skeptical as whether Pharaoh and his servants are sincere in surrendering to God and agreeing to release the Hebrew slaves (9:30).  At this point, the Torah adds a seemingly unrelated remark concerning the effects of the plague of hail: "The flax and barley were smitten, because the barley was already standing up and the flax was on its stack; but the wheat and spelt were not smitten, because they ripen later" (9:31-32).

            The obvious question arises, why did the Torah find it necessary to provide this information, that the hail destroyed only the flax and barley, but not the wheat and spelt?  Furthermore, even if we can identify a compelling reason for this information, we must address the question of why it appears specifically in this context.  The Torah inserts these verses immediately following Moshe's comments to Pharaoh, but before recording Moshe's taking leave of Pharaoh to pray for the end of the hailstorm.  Why does the Torah interrupt the narrative of Moshe's meeting with Pharaoh to describe the limited effects of the hail?

            These questions led some commentators to conclude that these verses are actually part of Moshe's comments to Pharaoh.  Rav Saadia Gaon, as cited by Ibn Ezra and the Ramban, explained that Moshe here clarifies to Pharaoh what his prayers will achieve.  He tells the monarch that the flax and barley cannot be restored, as they had already been decimated by the hail, whereas the wheat and spelt will remain fully intact, as the hail will not continue until the point where the wheat and spelt ripen and thus become vulnerable.  The Ramban dismissed this approach, claiming that such clarification was unnecessary.  Pharaoh had no reason to expect the restoration of the destroyed crops, or to anticipate any harm to the crops that had yet to ripen.  He certainly understood that the hail's damage would not be undone, and that it would not extend to the crops that are as yet not vulnerable to harsh weather conditions.

            The Ramban therefore suggested a different interpretation, claiming that Moshe here warns Pharaoh that there still remains valuable produce for God to destroy should the king persist in his defiance.  In effect, the Ramban comments, Moshe here alludes to what he states more explicitly later, in warning Pharaoh about the plague of locusts: "…and it [the locusts] shall consume the surviving remnants, which was leftover by the hail" (10:5).  Moshe reminds Pharaoh that as devastating as the hail's effects were, it did not bring a complete end to Egypt's agriculture; it left over some produce that could still be destroyed by subsequent plagues should they become necessary.

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch explains differently, claiming that Moshe here tells Pharaoh why he suspects that the king will still refuse to acquiesce:

"You know quite well," says Moses, "that even if the flax and barley are destroyed…nevertheless the most important of all the products of Egyptian fertility, wheat and maize, had not suffered.  You imagine our God has made a mistake, should have waited a few weeks later to send the hail.  And because of that, because the most important of your produce has been left to you, you are yet far from really and truly fearing the Power of God."

In other words, in these two verses Moshe explains why he presumes that Pharaoh and his servants will continue to stubbornly defy the Almighty.  Upon assessing the hail's damage, they will conclude that God made a foolish strategic decision in bringing the hail before the ripening of Egypt's primary crops.  This conclusion will, in the eyes of Pharaoh and his men, undermine God's greatness and power, such that they will continue to arrogantly feel empowered to resist and oppose Him, rather than surrender.

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            The Torah writes towards the beginning of Parashat Vaera, "The Lord spoke to Moshe and Aharon and commanded them unto the Israelites and unto Pharaoh, king of Egypt" (6:13).  This verse features a number of syntactical difficulties, and the commentators offer different approaches in explaining the intent.  The Midrash Tanchuma, cited by Rashi, explains this verse by interpreting the word el ("unto") to mean "with regard to."  God issued two commands to Moshe and Aharon, one relating to their handling of Benei Yisrael, and the other involving their future encounters with Pharaoh.  As far as Benei Yisrael were concerned, Moshe and Aharon were instructed "to lead them with patience and to tolerate them."  Regarding Pharaoh, God ordered Moshe and Aharon "to give him honor in their words."  Despite his cruelty, Pharaoh was still a powerful monarch and as such deserved a degree of respect.  Therefore, even in expressing their demand that he release the Hebrew slaves, Moshe and Aharon were required to speak in a respectful and dignified manner.

            Rashi returns to this obligation – to speak to even sinful kings respectfully – later in his commentary, in the context of Moshe's warning to Pharaoh regarding the impending death of Egypt's firstborn.  Moshe predicts, "And all these servants of yours shall come down to me and bow before me, saying: Leave – you and this entire nation under your charge!" (11:8).  Based on the Gemara's comment in Masekhet Zevachim (102a), Rashi notes that Moshe specifically chose to warn of the servants' humble surrender to Moshe, rather than that of Pharaoh himself.  Predicting Pharaoh's bowing and surrendering would have infringed upon the honor due to him as a recognized king, and Moshe therefore spoke only of the royal servants.

            The scope of this obligation, to show honor to non-Jewish monarchs, is subject to a debate among the Acharonim.  The Machatzit Ha-shekel (O.C. 224) claimed that this law refers only to manner of speech; it requires only that a person who speaks with a monarch maintain a respectful and dignified demeanor.  This is indeed the implication of Rashi's citation from the Tanchuma, as mentioned earlier: "to give him honor in their words" ("la-chalok lo kavod bi-dvarim").  Furthermore, as the Machatzit Ha-shekel notes, this understanding appears to emerge from the Gemara's discussion in Masekhet Berakhot (9b), where it urges going to great lengths to greet gentile kings.  The Gemara explains that personally beholding gentile monarchs is immensely valuable because one will perhaps then be privileged "to distinguish between the kings of Israel and the kings of the pagan nations."  In the future, when the Davidic royal dynasty will be restored, our memory of the sight of foreign kings will serve us well, as it will enhance our appreciation for the power and grandeur of the renewed Jewish kingship.  The Gemara therefore encourages greeting foreign rulers as it will lead to a more profound sense of gratitude when our own monarchy will, please God, be reestablished.  The Machatzit Ha-shekel notes that the Gemara here makes no mention whatsoever of an obligation to show respect to kings; the only factor mentioned is the enhancement of our appreciation of the restored Jewish dynasty in the Messianic era.  Apparently, the obligation of kevod malkhut – showing respect to monarchs – does not require that one make an effort to participate in greeting kings.  Rather, this obligation refers only to a proper manner of speech when talking to a king, as suggested by the formulation of the Midrash Tanchuma.

            The Ketav Sofer (37) disagrees with the Machatzit Ha-shekel's restriction on this halakha, and claims that the obligation of kevod malkhut extends even beyond the narrow context of speech.  He notes that one of the sources cited in the Gemara (Zevachim 102a) for this obligation is the episode recorded in Sefer Melakhim I (18:46) where the prophet Eliyahu ran ahead of the wicked King Achav as an expression of respect.  This gesture of course did not relate to the context of speaking with a monarch, and thus seemingly proves that the requirement extends beyond this limited context.

            In response, we might suggest that the Machatzit Ha-shekel distinguished in this regard between Jewish and gentile monarchs.  Achav, the ruler of the Northern Kingdom of Israel, likely had the status of a Jewish king despite the many grievous sins he committed.  The obligation to show him respect might therefore apply to a broader scope than the corresponding obligation regarding gentile monarchs.  Additionally, we should note that the Gemara in Masekhet Zevachim cites two different views as to the source of the obligation of kevod malkhut, one of which points to the incident of Eliyahu and Achav.  Conceivably, the other view, which cited Moshe's respectful demeanor in speaking to Pharaoh, disagreed on this very point.  Meaning, he perhaps felt that the obligation applies only in the context of speech, and for this very reason he chose not to cite the incident of Eliyahu as the origin of this halakha.